


Baby, Don't You Play With Fire.

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Body Horror, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Grimdark, Heavy Angst, Kinda, Knives, M/M, Pepperspray, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killers, Splatterpunk, Tasers, Unconventional Love, Various Murders (obviously), cats die :(, dark themes, its somewhat fluffy i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stan Marsh, on a whim, decided to move to the sunny hellscape of gorgeous California.Worst mistake of his pitiful life.(Includes graphic detailed murders and scenes of animal cruelty and murder.)!!DISCONTINUED!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY evan back again with broken promises and awful serial killer aus :) who woulda guessed.
> 
> THIS IS VERY OOC. im mostly just projecting on characters, so you can take them as sp characters or something entirely different, this is an au after all.

The first time Stan met Kyle, he found himself in a dog park near the Mexico/California border.

Kyle was rather hard to ignore, in a sense.

The dog park in particular wasn't alien to Stan, mostly a sanctuary where he could materialize, read a book, pet some white couple's obese golden retriever, really any basic shit anyone could perform at any generalized park, a lovely, if not noisy, safe haven with a natural charm.

Stan was simply seated beneath a lush oak tree, taking in today's sights, sounds, and smells.

A flash of deep red, as obvious as a cardinal in a foot of snow, caught the noirette's eyes, and he frowned, curiosity sincerely piqued. 

Upon further investigation, the offensive red belonged to a rather small male, appearing about in his early 20's, seated on an expensive looking grey blanket in the middle of the park. The redhead had with him a white labrador, stocky in statue. 

Stan hesitated, before bringing himself to examine the man, drinking in every detail.

Something about the male had a somewhat dainty air, with his perfectly styled hair to the outfit he was wearing, a light, fluffy pink hoodie and pale blue high waisted jeans, brought together by a pair of black Doc Martens. A gently rounded face, he had pale freckled skin and green eyes, which gently sloped into an inquisitive, yet sharp and calculating downturned slant, giving him a casual, almost tired sense of never-ending watchfulness. 

A pair of gradiented, heart shaped sunglasses with golden wired frames balanced on the bridge of his freckled nose, and Stan had to fight the desire to laugh at his fashion sense.

This was a pureblood twink if he'd ever seen one. 

"Hey. I saw you watching me. Like what you see, or something?" A voice mused, quite close to him, in fact.

Stan scrambled to his feet, staring wide-eyed at the perpetrator.

It was him, the twink.

"H-Hi, sir," He sputtered, "I'm sorry, I just come here a lot, and ive never seen you before."

Twink seemed to size him up, his knowing eyes feeling like vines of ivy crawling up his spine as he examined him.

He nodded to himself after a moment, sending a brief bolt of anxiety down Stan's back, for whatever reason.

Twink didn't speak for a while after that, and Stan somehow found himself missing that sharp, knowing drawl, even if he'd only heard it once.

Twink's voice seemed haughty, and his personality and appearance seemed aristocratic, almost.

Something new caught his eyes, and he spotted the white lab he'd seen with Twink earlier, sitting obediently next to his legs.

In a desperate reach of conversation, 

"Your dog is pretty," Stan offered politely, "What's their name?"

Twink seemed to open up a bit at that, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"This girl here? Her name isn't important, but she's a sweetie." Twink smiled, gently ruffling the dog's ears, earning a happy bark and a soft laugh from Twink.

Stan wanted to propose marriage.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Stan stared wordlessly at a space just past Twink's right ear, before blurting a question.

"Hey, do you wanna get a coffee or something later? I'll pay, if that's okay with you."

Twink regarded him with the sharpest glower he'd ever seen, and he almost took a fearful step back.

"And you were doing so well, too." Twink sighed, reaching forward to grasp Stan's shoulder, pulling him down with an unexpected force, until the taller male was face to face with him.

Twink used his free hand to fish something out of the pocket of his jeans, and Stan seized up in slight fear.

A fifty dollar bill was forced into one of his hands, and a different, softer hand forced his digits into a tight fist, and Stan felt the money crumple slightly in his forced grasp.

"Buy a nicer outfit, kitten, and i'll consider it." Twink purred, shifting his hand from digging his manicured nails into Stan's shoulder to delicately cupping his cheek.

Twink placed a honey sweet kiss on Stan's lips, before pulling away with a gentle brush on the taller male's neck, vanishing from sight within minutes, 

leaving a very shocked, very turned on Stan, to ponder over what exactly just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAD TO REWRITE THIS SO MANY TIMES im so frustrated i hope it seems semi decent
> 
> comments and kudos make me super happy!! feel free to criticise or give suggestions, ill be listening!
> 
> !!This chapter contains blood!!

Stan stared silently at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, fighting about ten mental battles at the same time. 

Formal, or even nice looking clothes for that matter, was not his style. Typically opting for a simple t-shirt or hoodie, he was all but used to looking as pristine as this. His days of immaculately cleaned and ironed dress shirts and dress pants died with the day he stopped going to church. 

The things he'd do out of desperation

Stan sighed, dully running a comb through his freshly washed hair until he looked presentable, nose crinkling as another wave of heavily scented axe shampoo filled the muggy room. Hot showers were his solace, but the steam afterwards was disquieting.

After adjusting the collar of his shirt, Stan stepped out of the bathroom, grabbing his wallet and phone. He'd assume Twink was at the park; where else would he meet him?

Stan gingerly opened his door, surfacing from his waterstained apartment. Descending the short concrete steps attached to the sunbleached bricks of the building. His apartment complex was anything but desirable, however, it was home.

Scuttling across the cracked pavement, Stan reached the other sidewalk, the quickest route to the park. Luckily, it was midday, so the streets were relatively quiet.

That did nothing to quench his anxieties, however.

Stan kept a steady stride, speeding up as the arch marking the park caught his eye, and he quietly released a breath of air he had no idea he was holding. Hopefully, Twink would be there waiting for him. It was relatively the same time they'd met yesterday, but he could only pray.

Stan reached the entrance, giving a quick sweeping look of the park.

Twink wasn't anywhere within sight, and Stan shuffled his feet in disappointment, before quietly walking to the shade of the tree he occupied yesterday, standing quietly in the cool overcast.

He was beginning to grow impatient, eyes fixiated on the park entrance, almost in some kind of trance.

Two hands quickly clasped around his throat, before jerking him into the surrounding hedges. Stan didn't get a chance to scream, too paralyzed with shock to react.

Two green eyes, bright with inquiry and laughter, met his as he was gently dropped at someone's feet, leaves swirling up in the disrupted air.

"Hey." A familiar voice cooed. Stan blinked away the lingering fragments of his brief out-of-body experience, slowly getting to his feet.

Twink stared silently at him, eyes searching his face, his shirt, his pants, and finally relaxing as they returned back to stare quizzically back at his face.

"You look like a mormon." He concluded, the edges of his lips curling up into the beginning of a smile. All of Stan's organs squirmed.

" _You_ look like a football jockey." Stan pleasantly pointed out, nodding at the opposing male's pale blue varsity jacket.

Twink visibly swallowed a fit of laughter, the only thing giving him away was the sparkle in his eyes. Stan wanted to cry.

"Oh!" Twink exclaimed, like a scientist making a breakthrough. "I never told you my name, did I? I'm Kyle." He concluded with a gentle smile.

Kyle.

Cute.

Stan smiled back, tipping his head to the side. "I never told you my name either, Huh? I'm Stan" He replied, returning the smile.

Kyle dipped his head, before squeezing Stan's arm.

"You're still up to buying me a coffee." Kyle added as he squirreled through the gap Stan opened in the hedge.

Stan uncomfortably noted the fact that he couldn't figure out out if that was a statement or a question.

"Um--Yes, I am?" He replied, forcing through the gap after Kyle.

Kyle seemed happy with that reply, and slowed his pace to match Stan's stride, his eyes narrowing into the sharp, watchful glare they had the day they met.

"I trust you know where the Café is, seeing as you were the one to suggest this." Kyle teased, side-eying him playfully.

Stan replied with a careful laugh, nodding his head. Kyle shifted to the right, close enough to comfortably brush up against Stan as they walked.

Stan finally began to relax, sliding into a lighthearted conversation with Kyle, eventually opting to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

There were a few stretches of alleyway between them and the Café, but Stan didn't mind, growing used to Kyle's company. 

Something flashed past Stan's head with a soft _whizz_ and he stopped in his tracks in surprise. Kyle immediately twisted and threw himself full-bodied into Stan's abdomen, and he yelped in pain as he was tossed aside on the sidewalk, feeling blood well up on scrapes on his exposed hands. For the second time, Kyle's eyes took up the entirety of his vision, except this time, the emerald depths were dark and cold.

" _Don't. Move._ "

He wasn't planning to.

Kyle's weight left him, and he silently watched the redhead vanish into the nearby alley. He listening in forced silence as two echoed cracks followed, leaving nothing but deafening silence afterwards. Kyle finally reappeared, looking increasingly aggravated.

"Get the hell up and follow me, quickly." He snarled, leaving no room for protest, nor questions as he wheeled around and quietly stalked away.

Stan scrambled to his feet, taking a fleeting moment to stare wide-eyed into the alley. 

Seeing nothing, he shrugged it off and struggled to catch up with Kyle, who was waiting stoically infront of a fenced in house, emotionlessly staring at Stan.

As soon as Stan reached within arm length of Kyle, he was bundled into the house, swallowing thickly as he heard the lock click behind him. 

The jostling caused the abrasions on Stan's hands to bleed faster, and Stan watched helplessly as red soaked his sleeves and splattered on the floor. 

Kyle finally resurfaced within eyesight, eyes catching Stan's torn hands, soaked sleeves, and the blood splattered on his hardwood floors.

"I-I'm sorry about that," He murmured, apologetically gazing at him. "I'm not exactly popular here. I should have known."

Stan personally didn't believe that was a good enough explanation of what the hell just happened, but Kyle was already ushering him into a loveseat in the middle of the room.

"Stay here, i'll go get a first aid kit." He insisted searching Stan's face for a moment, before trodding off to a corridor to the left.

Stan stayed put, because what else could he do?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY this chapter'll be a little different. gratuitous gore and detailed descriptions, as well as animal abuse and murder. be warned!!
> 
> Typically, i type chapters more in stans general point of view, but this time around you can learn a bit more about kyle, as it'll be written centered around him :)
> 
> also this should be obvious but i don't condone murder, nor animal abuse. im not that awful.
> 
> comments and kudos are welcome and encouraged!

As Kyle ambled across the stretch of his living room, multiple thoughts coursed through his mind.

_He had to get back outside. He had to clean up the cuts on his guest's hands, and fast; the state of cleanliness of the sidewalks were highly questionable. It'd take time. Was it worth it?_

Yes, it was. No ifs, ands, nor buts. He had to gain Stan's trust. This would probably help.

Kyle quietly opened a cabinet in his bathroom, lugging out a large, clear box and a pair of latex gloves.

Reentering the living room, Kyle approached the light brown loveseat, currently containing a seemingly perplexed Stan.

"Hey," Kyle murmured, training his eyes on Stan as he slid the surgical gloves on in two fluid motions, before rummaging through the box.

The wounds on Stan's hands had already began to crust over, which only proved more work. He just prayed the disinfectant would still be somewhat effective.

Kyle silently cleansed the scrapes with a gratuitous amount of peroxide, snorting each time Stan hissed or whined in pain, before eventually wrapping his hands in gauze and relenting once he became satisfied with the state of the cuts.

"Okay, well, I have something I need to take care of. You can hang around here, if you'd like. I won't be offended if you leave, my fridge is always open." Kyle offered a small smile, gently patting Stan's knee. 

"See you around, I hope." He was quite aware of Stan's eyes burning a hole into the back of his head, full of questions, and full of concern. He didn't have time to deal with it.

Kyle chose not to discard the gloves, silently grabbing a generously sized backpack stationed inconspicuously beside a fake house plant, before slipping back into the dazzling outside heat.

Grateful for the generalized low traffic of the area, Kyle slipped unseen back into the aforementioned alley, stalking purposefully into the dark. 

Two eyes flashed wordlessly from the shade.

"I came back just in time, hmm?" Kyle hummed, tossing the backpack aside.

"Fuck you." A voice softly replied. Kenny, Kyle realized.

Kyle felt a boot weakly connect with his leg, and he gently tutted, taking a sharp step forward.

Kyle's foot found purchase, and he swiftly brought his shoe down onto the chest of the unsuspecting blonde, smirking as he heard the air being driven from his crumpling lungs.

"So, why'd you do it, McCormick?" Kyle snarled, "That guy with me did absolutely nothing to you, and you know it. Don't bring any bullshit excuses either. You weren't aiming for me, and I know it."

The only reply Kyle recieved was an agonized inhale of air as he lightened the pressure, however, safely keeping his foot firmly planted in the middle of Kenny's chest.

"Not.." Gasp, "..Telling.." Gasp, "..You.." Gasp.

Kyle growled, immediately moving all his weight to the leg stationed on Kenny's diaphragm, feeling a rush of satisfaction when a few snaps replied.

Kenny cried out in pain with the remaining air in his lungs, thick tears beginning to run down his face.

Kyle huffed, giving Kenny a hefty kick, before stepping over to the backpack. 

"I trust you won't move, knowing the state you're in." He called over his shoulder as he rummage through the bag. 

Kyle quietly removed three items, tossing two in Kenny's generalized area, and simply dragging out the final one. 

A lighter, a filet knife, and a sledgehammer lay in the vicinity of the two.

"There's ways to make you talk, and trust me, I'll pull them all." He cooed, gripping Kenny's chin roughly between his index finger and thumb, before sharply bringing his head down into the concrete, listening to the reverberation of the noise the mutual connection made.

"Oh, three items may not seem like much, but trust me, I know how to get creative." Kyle grinned, eyes lidded pleasantly. 

"For example, I could take that knife, and _slowly_ gouge out your-"

A soft scuffling behind the two caused Kyle to swiftly snap his head around, searching for the source.

A small, mottled cat leapt out of a nearby dumpster, and an idea slowly formed in Kyle's mind.

"Hey, why don't I just demonstrate?"

Kyle dove forward, grasping the feline brusquely.

The cat twisted in his grasp, screeching it's rage as Kyle's hand tightened ever so slightly around it's throat.

"Of course, you'd never fight this hard." Kyle mused, reaching for the discarded lighter on the ground.

Kyle slowly flicked the lighter, making sure to hold Kenny's gaze as the flame popped into existence.

"Wanna talk yet?"

"No."

"Alrighty."

The cat's fur erupted into flames almost instantaneously.

The alley filled with the terrified yowls of an animal in distress, as well as the scent of burning hair. Kyle sniffed as heat licked at his hand through the latex glove, feeling the material start to melt. He held the screeching feline out at arms length to keep the sleeve of his jacket from catching fire. The cat began to writhe frantically in distress, and Kyle sighed, throwing the creature to the ground, and quickly clamping his foot down on it's burning tail, feeling it crunch beneath his weight, and the cat released another agonized wail.

Kyle removed an old, half full water bottle from the side pocket of his backpack, feeling Kenny's eyes glued to his hand.

He uncapped the bottle, relishing in the struggle of the cat for a few more minutes as he took a sip of the stale water, before pouring the liquid onto the feline, watching the fire slowly extinguish. He stomped out the remaining flames on it's tail, ignoring the shrieks of pain, and the slow, distressed moan Kenny failed to stifle.

Kyle dropped the bottle and the lighter, trading them out for the cat, which he held by the torso, impressed with its still ever vigilant writhing, and the filet knife, which he trained onto the space infront of the cat's eye.

"Wanna talk _now?_ "

"N-No."

"You sick fuck." Kyle grinned, driving the knife through the cat's eye socket. Kenny stared wordlessly, his hands clenching and relaxing in an uncomfortable rhythm.

Kyle watched, unmoving, as the cat's struggles grew weaker and weaker, before twisting the knife, and finally removing it.

He dropped the cat at his feet, meeting Kenny's eyes again as he grabbed for the handle of the sledgehammer. "I'll give you one last fucking chance, dude. Why?"

Kenny said nothing.

Kyle sighed, before lifting the hammer above his head. The cat gave a weak twitch of it's charred paw.

"You killed this cat, not me, Kenny. Keep that in mind." 

Kyle bore the sledgehammer down on the feline's skull, listening to it crunch and splatter on the concrete. 

He stood, huffing, as Kenny began to cry.

"Oh, you're feeling guilty all the sudden, huh? Maybe you should have fucking _talked_ when pussy still had half a damn chance." Kyle scolded, bringing his heel down on Kenny's chest again, listening to him wheeze out another sob.

"You know what? I'll skip that shit and get straight to crushing your fucking skull. You fine with that? I'll call that mercy." Kyle spat, increasing the pressure on Kenny's ribcage.

Kyle gave the blonde one final scathing glare, before swinging the hammer with as much force as possible. 

Blood splattered in all directions imaginable, coating his pants legs, his jacket, hell, even managing to reach his face. Kyle released the pressure on Kenny's mangled body, before shoving it as hard as possible with the heel of his boot, watching what was left of it neatly slide beneath the dumpster, leaving a thick trail of blood.

Kyle let the sledgehammer clatter to the ground, sweeping the gruesome alleyway with a narrowed gaze.

He had a lot of cover-up work to do.


End file.
